Unlikely Contests
by Trygvasson
Summary: Some unlikely contests featuring characters from Rothfuss, Eli Monpress, Abhorsen, Narnia, Buffy, mythology, and who knows what else eventually...
1. Felurian Fights

**A series of one-shot crossover competitions between Felurian from Patrick Rothfuss'** ** _The Name of the Wind,_** **Rachael Aaron's Shepherdess from** ** _The Legend of Eli Monpress,_** **and Garth Nix's** ** _Old Kingdom_** **characters Sabriel and Mogget. I wrote this during last year's Suvudu fantasy cage match March Madness thingy (google it). Yes, I am commenter Rose on the Suvudu website.**

 **None of these characters are mine, clearly.**

1:  
Felurian stepped towards the silver white glow, like a piece of the moon fallen down to earth again. She rounded a corner in the trail, and stopped before a beautiful vision. It was a woman, tall and lovely and naked, as she was, but radiant white, from her skin, to her lips, to her hair, to her eyes. This was a treat-a partner that she would keep for months.

 _The spirits were right_ , the white woman said, mind to mind. _You are beautiful, Felurian_.

Felurian's smile blossomed at the compliment, but she did not speak. It was not the way of things with this Woman…Shepherdess.

The Shepherdess smiled. _I see you know me, Daughter, Queen, Love_. She stepped forward and took Felurian's hands, soft white melting smoothly and sweetly into soft tan. _Will you be mine, Darling? You would be my star, my Favorite, cherished forever. Just loving, forever. You would like that._

Felurian smiled more broadly. Perfection. Simply perfection, this Union. A sweet treat to last eternal. This one would never fade. Her delicate fingers closed around those of the Shepherdess, and she released the flood of her magic aura, longing and lust flowing into their twined hands. The Shepherdess slowly tightened her grip, then drew the Fae creature in sharply, strongly, mouth pressing down on hers with a ruthless firmness. Felurian's arms wrapped around her Shepherdess as the White Lady's mark burned deep into her soul, branding her, owning her forever.

The pair disappeared into the Between. The Lady no more heeded the Lord of Storms and his endless mission, her former favorites, her spirits, the Dark. The world turned on without her, plunging to sleep beneath a cracking dome, still riddled with black seeds from within. In another world, where the Shapers were not forgotten, the Creator not forever lost, a Twilight glade slumbered without a queen. A giant, solitary tree snickered to itself in the silence. Men and women walked a moonless night together, and were not sundered.

2:  
Mogget was rather irritated by this latest task set upon him by the latest lazy Abhorsen. "Find the magic lust fairy and subdue her. Then bring her back in a bottle so I can stick her in the fall." It was so demeaning. The small white cat padded disdainfully through the charming romantic grove. He hopped up onto the soft bed, digging his claws into it with relish. Felurian was there, just waking up. She turned her lovely butterfly-lidded eyes to the small smug feline, and frowned.

"A cat? No. There is more to you than that!" She reached out a hand to stroke his ears. Mogget purred, and his form flickered into that of a small man, albino, with green eyes, red belt, and sharp teeth. Felurian cooed.

Mogget looked her in the eye. "I'm only interested in your renowned thousand hands if they come with a thousand fishes." He turned back into a cat. "Pet me some more. I'm itchy under my collar."

Felurian smiled, pulled him onto her lap, and unbuckled the collar. A smell of ozone. The cat purred, then blurred, then grew to a blinding white with claws like knives. Felurian shrieked and shoved him from her. She called her shaed down to clothe the writhing white before her, but it was too late. The light laughed terribly, cruelly, crackling like a wild fire, and leaped for her. Felurian was engulfed in white flame. The Thing that was Mogget flew back to the Abhorsen as he had been bound. But he was not resigned. The collar was loose. He had a chance before Sabriel bound him again. Freed even just once a generation, he would eventually win. He had all the time in the world.

3:  
She was a lovely waif, so different from the other mortals Felurian met in the dark of the moon. Tall and pale and cold, like the void of death waiting to fall away, yet iron bound to Life. The blade of a knife, alluring but dangerous. Almost as seductive as the boys she normally found.

The woman turned to her with cold, dark eyes, sensing power and immediately suspicious of it. They appraised each other silently. Felurian saw a magnificent sweet fruit in a prickly shell, iron sword bound with unfamiliar magics and bells of a metal far worse than iron. What did the woman see?

"You are not of the Charter, but there is a power in you. What are you?"

The sweet thing had a voice of music! Felurian laughed, a delicate, tinkling sound that set the moonless wood alive like day. The woman shrank from her and assumed a fighter's stance. How rude! The woman drew a bell, a large one, a strong one, a threatening one. But she did not let it sound. "How now, fair one, that is not a friendly greeting! Put away your bell and sword! We should have a joyous meeting! Won't you come into my parlor? Come into my forest glade! You have never known the ardor two can have, maid and maid." The lilting words were wrapped in compulsion, in lust, in joy. Felurian would have her fun, once the bells were gone, at least.

The sword lowered slightly, but then golden light poured from a symbol on the pale woman's forehead as she flipped her bell and rang it once with steady motion. A clear, strong, deep note, casting off all other thought. Felurian's spell splintered. She was bewildered. She didn't know this magic! But she was not beaten, and the treat would be all the sweeter for the struggle. Felurian fought back the binding in the bell with ease–it was not cemented with her Name–and sent forth her own power. Death's maid flinched from the Compulsion, but held firm, strengthened by her own spell woven through the continuing echoes of the bell's voice. So that was it. Felurian barely noticed as the woman tucked the first bell away and drew the smallest instead: she knew what to do. Smiling beatifically, Felurian opened her mouth and let out a scream. It was a wild thing that spoke of summer twilight and abandonment. Just the thing to break the solemn command of that dreadful still-sounding bell. It worked splendidly, and Felurian followed the harsh note with a leap. She would take this marvelous, deadly creature for her own.

But she was distracted. This was exhausting. A tiny, high note sang her a lullaby, a song of comfort in the warmth of the night, a sleeping embrace. This new moon was nearly done, and she had yet to sleep. She must return to Faerie and wait until the next time… A golden mantle fell about her shoulders, cocooning her in a warm shroud she felt she could simply melt into. A new voice joined the first, a slow waltz that led the way to bed. Felurian turned into the Fae wind to greet her sleepy grove, curled into her feather bed, snuggled into her Golden Fleece, and dreamed of a tall, thin, elegantly pale woman, who sang to her a wordless song, forever. A charming smile played across her lovely face. Why need she ever wake again?

Sabriel didn't know where the creature had gone. It was a kind of free magic she had never met before, that she did not recall from the Book of the Dead or any other tome In her father's house. It had a stronger will than even most of the Greater Dead, to break the bond of Saraneth so easily. But so hard as it had been to command, so easy had it succumbed to the lure of sweet Ranna's seductive call. Sabriel smiled softly as she walked on through the silent wood. She was a pretty thing, soft with sleep, begging to be held, and soothed,and kissed… And even as the creature had swayed into the trees, called by Ranna to sleep but by Kibeth to walk, Sabriel had longed to still Ranna's voice, let Kibeth ring alone, and clasp that strange, exotic, magic woman to her in a heady dance. But she didn't. She was Abhorsen now. Hers was not the path of light, and gaiety, and pleasure in the wood,and no magic construct, no matter how lovely, could change that now. But she would see those butterfly eyes forever now, and wonder. How would it have been to follow the thing along that rosy path?

Sabriel sighed. Did the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?


	2. Caspian and Charybdis

**A crossover fanfic of the crew of the** ** _Dawn Treader_** **vs Scylla and Charybdis from Greek mythology. I wrote this during this year's Suvudu fantasy cage match March Madness tournament thing. Yes, I am commenter Rose on the Suvudu website.**

 **Narnia and all its inhabitants are the creation of C.S. Lewis.**

"No!" the pale Lord Rhoop shouted in anguish. "This is the island where DREAMS come true. Not…daydreams. Your worst dreams. Your worst nightmares!" The crew stared at him, aghast.

"Turn the ship!" Caspian shouted. "Turn about!"

Drinian was quick to comply, and all the other crewmen likewise leapt to their tasks in desperation.

"No!" Shouted Reepicheep. "My liege, Caspian! Surely we should face our fears, and conquer this darkness! What could send these, such valiant Narnian lords, to flight?"

"Mouse, you have never dreamed, but you should know, there are some fears no man should be asked to bear, now–" the ship lurched as a sudden violent current latched hold. Caspian caught Reepicheep as the mouse was nearly thrown overboard. "What happened?" the King shouted.

"I don't know, my Liege!" Drinian returned. "She's being pulled back into the Dark, and I can't hold her!" A low, rumbling yawn of a sound drowned out the captain's next words, and the current increased. Snatches of an eerie howls drifted out of the dark behind them. Lord Rhoop collapsed sobbing against the rail, and Lucy burst into tears, inexplicably stammering "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" even as she continued to tug on a line with her cousin to secure the mainsail.

Bewildered, and frightened, Caspian shouted over the din at her, "what is it Lucy? Do you know what this is?"

The little queen nodded miserably. "It was from a schoolbook… I wasn't frightened originally, but ever since that storm… I'm sorry. It's Charybdis. And the other sound has got to be Scylla." The Narnians stared at her blankly, but Edmund turned several shades whiter in the gloom. He jumped up to the wheel deck to help Drinian turn them out of the current. "Maelstrom!" He shouted. Even Reepicheep hastened to the lines then, securing loosened knots in the upper rigging so the other sailors could focus on deck.

The current let up slightly, then another yawning roar thundered over them, and the intense waves threatened to capsize the little boat. Still, Drinian and Edmund together were able to keep them on tack away from the monster. The current was easing again, and Lucy bundled Rhoop below deck for safety, then made her way over to Caspian. "We may be able to skirt the island to avoid the currents, but Scylla will be there. She is a monster with many heads that snatches and eats sailors from the deck."

"What charming schoolbooks there are in your world."

"Yes, well, anyways, in the myth, Odysseus set sail at full speed past the cliffs and managed to escape, so…"

"Yes, ok then. Drinian! We'll need to sail close by the edge of the island to get out, but we will likely be attacked as we do, so full speed! Reepicheep! You and I must fend off attacks from the cliffs, so you stay up in the sails to protect us from above. Everyone else keep your eyes open–we are all at risk!"

The ship edged toward the cliffs, leaving the roars of Charybdis behind. Soon, though, unholy screeches we heard ahead and to the port side. The sailors moved about the deck with ducked heads, peering fearfully up every few seconds, waiting for an attack. The first one came too soon, a great reptilian maw descending out of the utter blackness straight towards Lucy, as if it knew her for the unlucky dreamer. Caspian lept to meet it, swiping at the monster with his sword as Lucy scrambled for cover. Two heads at once dove down. Reepicheep speared one in the eye, sending it screaming back up into the dark. Caspian rolled out of the way of the other, shouting for everyone else to keep clear of the port side as much as possible. They seemed to crawl through the churning waters, as the beast screeched ceaselessly at them, jaws knifing through the air. The horrific cacophony just kept growing, and Caspian realized even as he fought back another head that it wasn't just Scylla now. Rhoop was screaming again, audible from below deck. The roar of the whirlpool behind them had somehow increased again. Other wails and shrieks came from the Dark Island, and a terrible chill that made Edmund now shrink into the shadows of the mast, arms clasped about himself as he gasped and muttered to himself. An unnatural snapping sound was added to the mix, apparently prompting Eustace to flee to the bow. Drinian was crying at the wheel and snatching fruitlessly at some invisible enemy. Another man clutched at his throat as if struggling to breathe. In despair, Caspian realized Lucy's was not the only dream attacking them now.

"Watch out Caspian!" The King instinctively ducked as Reepicheep slashed at yet another of Scylla's heads, whose jaws sliced the air precisely where Caspian's head would have been. They seemed to be making no headway at all. "I am glad I as a mouse have no terrible dreams to add to this adventure, but I cannot be the only one with a clear head, my King! You have to keep focused on the task!" And indeed Caspian tried, but suddenly, he knew with a certainty his own very worst nightmare. He had no real heir back in Narnian, and the peace between Telmarine and old Narnians was new and unsteady…his eyes snapped shut at the first ominous CRACK in the side of the ship. With the second CRACK, he forced them back open, back on guard against Scylla. They would all die here, but in Aslan's name he would go down fighting….Aslan's name.

"Aslan!" It was Lucy. "Oh Aslan, if you can hear us now, save us!"

A light fractured the shadows before them, and the ship surged forward as the vicious currents suddenly seemed to lose their grip on the ship. They pulled away from Scylla's cliffs, leaving the dying screams of the Dark Island behind. They sailed back into a calm sea and daylight, as if from a cloud of smoke on a stormy night. The crew merely stood there blinking at each other for several minutes. Then suddenly, the skeletal Lord Rhoop flung open the trapdoor from below deck, sprang out, and ran to the stern, staring back onto an empty horizon. Empty?

"Why, you've destroyed it!"

Destroyed it? Not us…

 **Note: There will be more Unlikely Contests in the future, probably some in March, who knows when else... :)**


	3. Xander the Demon-Magnet

**Crossover with Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the John Keats poem _La Belle Dame sans Merci,_ which is an excellent little ballad.**

 _Ok, pick up Willow's sage at the Magic Shop, carrots for Dawn, and duct tape and a hammer. Then home. I can remember that. Sage, carrots, duct tape, hammer. Sage, carrots, duct tape hammer. Sage, celery, duct tape, hammer. Wait..._ carrots _! Not celery, carrots. Sage, celery, I mean carrots, duct tape, and..._ "Oh, hello there. Didn't mean to step on you." Xander paused to look at the man slumped on the sidewalk. There was always the risk in Sunnydale that he'd discovered a fresh corpse. Or worse. But no, this guy was clearly still alive, looked college-aged, and presumably was a normal human. Demons tended to have fangs... and didn't usually look sick. "Dude, you ok?"

The stranger glanced up at him listlessly. "No," he gasped.

"Ooookay... Do you need to go to a hospital?" He didn't answer, so Xander dug out his cell phone and called for an ambulance. Turned out, there wasn't one available for the next thirty minutes, or even a cop car, because there was currently a pile-up going on on the interstate. Well, Xander wasn't about to leave the poor guy out on the street at twilight to become vampire food. Praying he wasn't sick with anything deadly contagious, Xander hoisted the man up in a fireman's lift and continued on to the Magic Shop.

Giles looked over as soon as the bell tinkled. "Good lord, what happened?"

"Demon in the street?" Anya asked, "Are you hurt, honey?"

"I'm fine. He's just sick. Couldn't leave him for the vamps."

Anya's concerned tone immediately switched to irritation. "Sick? Why bring him here, then? He could infect us, drive away customers! What's wrong with a hospital?"

Giles cleared his throat. "Bring him over here. What's wrong with him? Will EMS be sending someone here eventually?"

"That's the plan. And I'm not sure. He was just sitting on the sidewalk. He's real pale, sweaty, awfully weak. I dunno. He didn't say what happened."

Giles approached with a cup of water and poured some into the stranger's mouth. His eyes flew open, and he coughed weakly. He looked around. "Where..."

"At a profitable business," Anya said. "Can we move him to the back? Sick people are off-putting."

"Where did she go? So beautiful..."

"Oh, well, I'm right here."

"An, hon, please," Xander said.

"Was someone with you?" Giles asked him. "Did you see anyone, Xander?"

The stranger mumbled, "The woman in the woods. She was magical, made the whole place bloom...a garden nothing to disturb the stillness. A cave... Her lips... Those creatures... like extras in a cheap zombie horror movie." He shuddered and started shivering.

Xander looked at Giles. "So, is he sick or cursed, do you think?"

"Sounds like typical male delirium to me," Anya said, sounding bored. "Blah, blah, pretty girl, blah, blah. Probably had a lot of sex in the dream."

"Ahem, well, it is possible of course," Giles ventured, "but the zombies are at least somewhat suspicious. Might be prudent to look into it, just in case. Um, young man, where were you when all this happened?"

"Miller's Forest..."

"Dude, that's clear on the other side of town. You just been wandering around like this all day?"

He shook his head. "A cave in the forest. The woman. Then the dream. Then you tripped over me."

"Uh, what about the zombies?"

"The dream... They said she killed them. She would kill me... she wouldn't. _Elle a dit je t'aime_..." His eyes closed, and his shivers grew more vigorous. The bell tinkled again. EMS had arrived. Within a few minutes, their unfortunate guest was packed up and on his way to the hospital.

"Well, that was weird. Do we call in the team?" Xander asked.

" _Je t'aime?_ _La Belle Dame?_ No." Giles was muttering to himself.

"Hello? Earth to Giles?"

"What? Oh, yes, yes. I must consult my books..." He drifted off. Xander rolled his eyes and looked at Anya.

"Hey, I'm still minding the store. It's business hours."

"Right. Fine, I'll go collect Willow and the Buffster. Hopefully Giles will know what's what when we get back." He kissed her lightly and headed out. It was full dark now, so he took a stake. The streets were strangely deserted. After he'd walked a couple blocks, a mist started gathering around him. "Great. Demons are out, visibility is down, and I'm the only munchies in the area. Just great."

"Hello."

He spun around to see a girl emerging from the park through the mists. Although girl wasn't really the right word. She was barefoot and wearing a long dress so thin it was practically sheer, every curve tantalizingly revealed by the drape of fabric. Her hair fell past her waist. Her eyes somehow sparkled with mischief in the streetlamps. She looked...timeless, caught between girl and woman, with a face that would easily grace the cover of some fashion magazine...or his other magazine collection hidden back in his old basement. Xander felt his cheeks warm. "Hi," he managed.

"What are you doing out here, alone?" She asked, voice low and gentle as a lover's whisper.

"I, um, I could ask you the same thing."

She smiled then. "I'm looking for someone." She stepped forward and licked her lips. "It might be you."

All the alarm bells suddenly went off in his head, and he stepped back. "Oh, no. Nuh-uh. Nope."

She pouted a little and stepped forward again. "What's wrong?" Xander retreated until his back was against the wall. She had him cornered. She sidled closer, not quite touching, but far too close for comfort. He could feel her breath on his shirt. She reached between them and traced one finger across his chest.

"I'm engaged," he squeaked, knowing that wouldn't matter to whatever demon this was.

"Are you? How wonderful. You must be very... good." She pressed into him and kissed him on the lips. He tasted honey, and dust and blood. The mist brightened and faded away to reveal a meadow of wildflowers of every color. At high noon. With summer heat. What happened to that January night? The scent was dizzying in the heavy, cloying air. Any distant traffic sounds had gone. The world was perfectly still, not a breath of wind, not a bird, not even the hum of an insect. The woman smiled and took him by the hand, making to pull him away into the flowers, but he resisted.

"No."

She spun around, suddenly angry. " _No?"_

"No! I have been the booty for too many demon ladies already, lady. And I'm currently the booty for just one former demon lady. I'm not going anywhere with you."

Her eyes narrowed. "He's warned you," she hissed.

"Uh, if you mean the fevery guy, well, he wasn't really up to warning anybody about anything. But I'm wise to you anyways..." Her face twisted, revealing the vampire features as he'd anticipated. Xander immediately pulled the wooden stake from his pocket. "Ah-ah-ah, lady. Not tonight, unless you want to get friendly with this guy."

She glowered at him, then raised a hand. The flowery meadow vanished, plunging them back into the dimness of the streets. Xander took off sprinting, hoping he was still headed towards Buffy's house. He heard the demon behind him, but then he saw the turn for Buffy's neighborhood. "Buffy! Help!" he shouted, praying she was nearby outside, or would somehow magically hear him down the block. He was tackled from behind. He and the demon rolled across someone's lawn for a second, then she was on him, pinning him down. She tore the stake from his hand and crushed it to splinters. Then she kissed him again, hard and aggressively, a deep moan escaping her. She tore open his shirt and felt him up, and, stunned, Xander let her. He was the weak one on the Scooby team, he freely admitted, but even he had rarely felt more helpless. He stared at the demon straddling him, at the erect nipples poking through her flimsy dress. He saw a only predator intent on devouring him, and for the first time in his young life, the thought of a hot woman's body was simply revolting. He closed his eyes and turned his head away, which might have been a mistake, as it gave the vampire easy access to his neck, but...

There was a dull _THWACK_ , and the demon's weight left him. He opened his eyes again to see Buffy wielding a very large stick. She tossed him a new stake. "Don't break Mr. Pointy." She jabbed the demon in the belly with her stick. "It's my favorite."

Xander grabbed the stake and climbed to his feet.

The female vampire growled at them and screeched, "Is this girl the one? The one that makes you resist me?" She swiped at Buffy, who easily dodged. Buffy kicked her legs out from under her, and Xander was there, stabbing down with Mr. Pointy with all his strength. Her eyes widened in shock, then disintegrated into dust.

"What the what?" Buffy said, sounding disappointed. "Did you get the carrots?"

"What? Oh. No. No, something came up, and I was coming to get you."

"Oh. Alright. Let's go, then." They set off down the street. "What was that about?" she asked, gesturing back at the empty lawn.

.

" _La Belle Dame sans Merci,"_ Giles said, reading from one of his many, many ancient tomes. Although this one looked less ancient than usual. He looked up at them. "It means 'beautiful woman without mercy.' She's old. You probably read the Keats poem about her in school. This is clearly her modus operandi. She hunts down young men, seduces them, enchants them, usually spends a whole day or even two with them in her lair for...you know...anyways, then she drinks from them but discards them still barely living, and they waste away. Even in the modern era that's happened. She must poison them, or spell them, or something." He looked up at them all. "It's lucky Buffy heard you, Xander. She's not known to leave any of her selected victims unscathed. The young man you found earlier is probably going to die still, unless Willow and I can figure out how she does it."

Xander felt arms encircle him from behind as Anya rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad she didn't get to you," she whispered.

He turned and kissed her forehead. "Hey, no vampire chick in a skimpy costume is going to lure me away from you, An. You're my only demon."

She smiled. "You mean it?"

"I mean it. That Bell Dam was pretty angry when I turned her down, but you're way scarier." Anya grinned at him and kissed his cheek.

"Whelp, guess I'll patrol on the way back to the house," Buffy said. "And I'll get my own carrots, I guess, Xand. See you guys later."

 _So, if she's getting the carrots, that leaves celery for Willow, duct tape, and a hammer. Wait, no, they don't sell celery here..._


	4. Bill versus Reality

_The strains of Joachim Raff's Symphony No. 5, "Lenore," drift out of the utter blackness._

Bill didn't change out of his pajamas that morning before leaving for work. He also skipped breakfast, thinking he might get a donut from the cart outside. On the way to the bus stop, a whole fleet of alien ships passed by pursued by an angry green giant. Bill idly wondered if the giant could photosynthesize.

When Bill got to work, he decided not to go into the office today after all because the building had been turned into a school for mutant children.

As he wandered around the park, Bill watched a bodybuilder exercising with a medieval broadsword. He wondered if the man also worked at a desk job some place, or perhaps was involved in politics. He looked up at the flagpole and saw there was no flag today, only the rope clattering against the metal pole in the wind.

Bill became lost in a crowd aimlessly drifting from street to street, surrounded by so many voices it might as well be silence. When the crowd turned as one to devour a lone sign-shaker outside the local pizza place, Bill continued to walk alone towards his apartment building. He noticed one of his neighbors lying dead in the entrance to the building. His head had been cut open and his brain was missing. Bill didn't remember the name of the dead man, and he wasn't sure if he had ever known it. He wondered when someone else would move in.

When Bill was young he used to imagine that his friends had been recruited for important positions in the army when they moved away. It was only later that he realized it really was just the random movements of adults causing it. He thought that most of his life had been a long series of goodbyes, learning not to mind very much when people left, and learning not to form very close relationships with people he might not know for very long.

That evening, Bill watched three hours of the evening propaganda before the lights and television suddenly went out. Bill drank a tumbler of Victory Gin in the dark and went to bed early.

The next morning, Bill felt very ill, as if he had swallowed a slug which was now gnawing on his liver. He stared at the manatee on his calendar and tried to remember if it was the first of the month yet, and whether he should flip the page. He also could not remember when he had scheduled his next doctor's appointment or whether he had written it down on the calendar yet. It was the weekend, so he decided to sleep for forty-two more minutes. During that time, he dreamt he was floating through space and wearing a cowboy hat and spurs, although the only animals he came across were three dead horses long-since frozen in space and a planet populated solely by apes and enormous worms.

When Bill finally got up, he noticed that his second heart had stopped beating, and he wondered when he'd gotten one. He-

* * *

 **Author's note: just a short thing here. Tis the season of the Unbound Worlds fantasy cage match. It's over, and it was mildly entertaining. Terry Pratchett's Librarian did very well, but lost the final match. Anyhow, I've also been rewatching some of Don Hertzfeldt's surreal animations. This little thing is inspired by _It's Such a Beautiful Day_ , Hertzfeldt's film about Bill, an otherwise ordinary character who seems to be dying of an unspecified neuropsychiatric illness. And this story in no way does justice to the original, but it was still fun to write. Here, Bill in a way goes up against all kinds of extraordinary creatures and people and circumstances, but emerges unscathed and in fact oblivious, because his only real enemy is his own illness. Starting from the top: Hulk and the chitauri, the X-men, Conan the Barbarian, a horde of zombies, recruiters from _Ender's Game,_ _1984_ , the chest-burster from _Alien_ , the worlds of _Firefly, Dune,_ and _Planet of the Apes._ The story ends with _Doctor Who_.**


End file.
